The End of a Circle

Dec. 15

"They broke up."

"What?"

"Your brother and Angie broke up."

After over five years of endurance and true love, they call for an ending. Although I'm not in the relationship...my tears dropped. If a couple like them can split up...then what can possibly overcome more...They went through so much together. High school, university...between each crack of these building blocks...they were filled in simply because they complete each other. Through any pair of eyes, one can see true love between them, in their bonded hands, in her smile.

The uselessness of time. People say that time heals wounds. Time can answer questions. Time brings age, maturity, significance...But even with over five years of time, the love they built in that given time was still not enough. Not enough to overcome and solidify in time for that obstacle.

I've never witnessed my brother in this state. It's not anger. It's not frustration. It's his vulnerability leaking through him. She was his ultimate weakness. And she's gone.

Knowing him ever since I have taken my first breath, I've never seen him eat plain, cold, loaves of bread. Usually, he would complain the lack of decent food we have around our house. But he opened each drawer, and closed each. Searched for a few seconds. And asked where the bread was. No one questioned his sanity. I didn't know what was going on. But I wasn't planning on asking. It was too dangerous.

There was nothing on it. It was just, plain, original, bread cut into slices. And he took two, and ate them raw. His laptop wasn't in front of him. His iphone was tucked away. He just seemed to sit there blankly. Completely unaware. And after his bitter devour, he left.

I still remember their matching silver rings. Simple. Pure. Worn everyday, on both of their fourth fingers. Like they were already married...

I wonder where those rings are going to end up now...

Left unworn...untouched.

Fourth finger...bare. Empty. Common, like everyone else.

I just wish I could hug him. And tell him that it'll be okay. Even if it isn't. He's the brother that does not cry in front of anyone. But himself. I don't even know if he has the ability to cry anymore. Maybe that ability was stripped away from him when she left. Although it was mutual, it doesn't seem like it is. His pain seems to be too strong....where all facial expressions disconnect and become incapable of expressing what he feels inside. I can't imagine the amount of pain in him. In a way, It hurts more to see him not cry...to not yell. I just wish that he would open up and ask for something. I just wish that I can help him...

How is he possibly going to heal by himself...

You're Mine

Nov. 7th .Sunny.

You're my everything. And you're mine.

Lately, all I've been thinking about is exactly one year ago. How it all started. How it all merged together. Just like puzzle pieces. They all just seem to fit. Tracing back, I still don't know how I could suddenly feel that Johnny was the one that will gift me with happiness. It's all in a different language that I don't understand. But I don't want to understand it. Let it be a mystery. It was a year ago, when I sat at those gym benches, when my heart would beat so fast for him. Exactly a year ago, where I would shut my eyes, and open them in the morning with him in my mind. It was also a year ago, that I would walk home alone, and just look up at the sky. I would wonder. I would hope.

Every step we take together, it's filled with smiles. We know everything about each other. What makes our lips curl. What we love. But I never got bored. Although walking from school to home, is a short road, it's a trail that I will always cherish. It's a road where we would hold hands, laugh, confess. Talking until five in the morning, there is still something to say, something to share together.

He's like my best friend, my confessor, my listener, my happiness. He's the only person that I can unload all. Insecurity. Pressure. Sadness.

"Do you want a hug to make you feel better?"

More than anything.

There is nothing better than being in your arms.

He's everything I can ask for. He doesn't have to be dramatically support me, but just subtly. Just delicately. I love that. I just love his hold, his words, his love. Although I can never discover where I'll be taken to next, or how much longer our lines will intersect, all I can hope is to treasure the time we have left together, and continue to endure, smile, and love.

You have no idea how much I love you, and how much I feel indebt to you for all your doings. You always say that you're so happy that I'm yours, but it's my privilege to have you as mine. I love your old quotes, I love your arms, I love the way you make me laugh, I love your support. I don't need anyone else. You're my escapism. You're my confessions. You're my love. Through the toughest times, you were the one that held me up so I could continue to persevere. I can't imagine how I will live if you aren't there anymore to hold me. I would fall down, and struggle so much to stand back up. You may not notice, but you spoil me. You have fulfilled almost every wish I had. And staying up late with you made me so happy. You've nourished my insecurities. You've given me everything. I love you so much...

Thank you Johnny.

New Teachers, Old Memories

September 25th .Sunny.

It's been only two weeks. And I already feel like God is testing me. Testing how far I can stretch, how long before I give in.

My new teachers are all pretty decent. Nothing to complain about. But Ms. Chow. I don't really comprehend it completely though. Many people say that she's really hard-core. Without a doubt, she is. My right hand has been so much weaker after the first three classes. But I think everything she does has a reason. Although it's only been awhile, I can already feel the amount I'm going to learn from her this year on my shoulders. Rock solid. My new English teacher can never compare to Ms. DC. Nowhere close. In a way, I kind of resent the hours I spend in my English class. There is no one to really talk to. There is nothing to connect to. My body is there, sitting on the plastic red chair. While my heart is drifting pass those walls, back to where they think they belong. In Ms. DC's room. Even when we're reading a book from the same author as "The Kite Runner", I don't feel anything. When my pencil tip lands on the piece of paper, there is nothing to strike my creativity. Just like the piece of paper, my brain is blank. My heart is just yearning for last year.

One day, Ms. DC went to my socials classroom, asking one of us to help a new student find his locker. Seeing her, I wanted to speak. But all my mouth was doing was being left open. It ran dry.There was nothing to really say. I probably left her really disappointed with me. She probably saw my provincial mark and was devastated. Someone that she thought that was something special turned out to be someone less than average. Nothing near special.

Having a new physics teacher is really brightening up my view in science. Mr. Block seems like a really caring teacher. The first day entering a class full of grade 12s again, I was completely silent, feeling a sensation of anxiety seeping in. He actually leans on his table, directly facing my desk, and asks me about my Summer. I thought it was weird. He doesn't even know me. He never even taught me before. And he already leans back, and smiles.

Mr. Lee as my Math 11 Honours teacher. Who else can I possibly ask for? Aside from Ms. DC, he was one of the only teachers that had lend a hand. There is nothing that I can't run to him for.

And finally, my friends. There have been a lot of friends that I've chosen to distant myself away from. It just doesn't seem like there is a point in being around a group where I've tried for half a school year. I tried to convince myself that I just need time to adjust. But that's not the case. I don't feel happiness. Jasmin, Vivian, and everyone else there just can't replicate what I felt before. Nothing can compare to grade 9. Even with Maggie there, it was that group that made me want to head to lunch quickly, that made me laugh until my stomach was hurting and my lungs were shrieking. I just want to go back to the past.

A Sandbox, and Building Blocks

July 17th .Sunny.

To have you as my little brother; To be given you...is a blessing. A blessing that I would never let go no matter how strong the obstacle in front of us is. My hand will always hold yours. In the sparkling rain. In the suffocating snow. In the daring sunlight. You're my baby brother. Forever and always.

Our friendship began with a building blocks. Building a sand castle. Simple. Nothing valuable was needed. We could be handed with sticks and stones, and still build love, friendship, unity. All I knew was what I felt. It was tingly. It was warm. It was my happiness shining through the very first time. Sunlight shining in my childhood. Piercing through growing leaves, growing trees. Thank you.

Our families connected. We smiled. We laughed. It was my everything. All my childhood memories were carried by this simple connection. I held it. I embraced it. As promised, I held closely to my heart.

We were running 'round and 'round in the playground. Us three. I saw pass the painted trees, over the colored ground filled with fallen leaves. It blew and rustled. Two adults whispering behind one. My mother. My eyes were ten years old. My brain was twelve. She knew that mouths were moving not far from her. But she looked around, like she was searching for something. But I knew she felt its presence. She saw it clear. She wasn't searching for anything. She was running away from what's in front of her. Or behind her. The moving mouths of gossip. The whispering message of: "We are best friends now. I've taken your spot. You are redundant. You don't matter." I stood there. I understood. My garden stopped receiving the sunlight that was nurturing it all this time. It grew dark, silent. Nothing moved. It was hidden and unseen. I had to quite my addiction, make it unheard of. An internal whisper. From my heart to nowhere. She cried, she thought, she hoped. But those mouths still talked. They still compared. They claimed their proud victories. I heard her tears. I could feel them, stained on her bed. On her heart.

Our sand castle tumbled down. Our building blocks was knocked down brutally. They were all buried down deep under my garden. Now, I'm given the chance to rebuild, to redeem. The pieces are given to me. They can be left there, to fit the dust between their edges. They can be put together and create the beautiful picture once seen before. Or a hideous one that would make me regret. Make me puke, cry, scream. It's all a choice. A risk to find our lost happiness.

But even without them, my garden continues to shine. It has learned to grow independently. Without sunlight. Without the sandbox. Without the blocks.

Without my childhood memories still breathing in me.

***

Mom,

I'm sorry that I am still so useless. From the age of four, to now the age of sixteen. I still can't protect you. I still can't stand. I still need you to carry me, feed me, love me. I'm sorry I didn't see pass my happiness and search past my own selfishness to find your unhappiness not so far away. All those tears you have shed, all the rejection you have been forced to accept, they are all gone now. And from now on, I'll be here with you. Both the good and bad. I'll endure it with you. I'll cry with you. To know that you've tried your best to keep that friendship strong, makes me cry. And I love you so much for what you have sacrificed. You are my hero, even if we lost. You are all I need to live on without my childhood still living in me. You are my sunlight now.

Band-aides

July 2. .Sunny.

I don't know how to deal with this. All I know is that I want to be alone.

I don't want his help.

Somehow I think that if I lock myself up, everything will just float away. But I still feel it. Loneliness is still whispering in my ear, tears are still effortlessly dripping on my exam papers. Desperation is still sliding down my back like a block of ice. It's hurting me so much. But I want to be fair. I want to go through this myself. I know that once I talk to him, I'll just spill my pain everywhere. On him. On myself. I don't deserve his help. I don't want him to bend down, and help collect my fallen pieces because I didn't help him all those times either. I'm not worth his time, or his care. But where do I run...who do I run to...

I'm cold. I'm tired. I'm alone.

I want his warmth. His touch.

I would stare at my history papers. Blank. My head would just wander around, with no destination. I'm trying so hard to stop crying, to stop drifting. But I can't. I would purposely disconnect myself from him, and he's still on my mind. I just want to escape. I just want to tell him how much it hurts, and how much I miss him. But what right do I have...and what does that do but make him worry...

Talking to him makes me miss him. Being away from him makes me miss him. Nothing is working. It's completely pointless.

"Just so awesome...seven months already," he says.

"Doesn't feel like it."

"Longer or shorter?"

"Shorter. You probably think it's already really long and exhausting," I joked.

"I guess..."

'I guess'? What does that mean...Is it actually exhausting for him? Is it too late to make it up afterall...

Tears and wounds have been covered up. But it's still being found. I don't want him to help. I don't want his guidance. He's already tired. And it's all my fault. I made this journey long and exhausting for him...There is no way to redeem myself. All I can do is leave myself isolated. Away from him. Separated from my selfishness.

When will this phase end...when will I understand that no matter how many times I cry, he's never going to appear out of my dreams, and into my reality. I'm doing all I can to suppress it. The need. The wish. The hope. But it's still leaking. It's starting a flood.

But that's what band-aides are for right? To cover up the wound, and allow it to heal in disguise.

But why isn't mine working...

Silent Tears

June 30. .Sunny.

I'm so sorry...

I neglected you. I pushed you aside. I shut myself away from you. I wasn't there for you.

Instead, you continued to be there for me. Every time.

I thought that it was ok. I thought you were ok. I thought that our relationship wasn't meant to be completely defined. I thought that blurs were acceptable between you and me. You let me continue to chase after my dreams, and fight through my personal obstacles. You let me push my frustration against your chest. You would hug me even when I walk away from you. You told me that you loved me even when I believed that everything was going against me. Your gentle kisses...your wishful comments...your ability to make me smile... They are all still here. Perfect condition. I've learned how to embrace each one. Each gift, each blessing. You put yourself aside silently, so I wouldn't notice that I wasn't the only one in pain. You soaked yourself in the rain so you could hold an umbrella for me. Tears were shed. I was missing in your life. I was the one that initiated our hands to touch. And I was also the one that was slowly losing our touch. I wasn't there anymore. And you missed me.

I always knew that he loved me more than I did. But I continued flipping through pages in my room. I continued to keep school my focused target. To me, he was an unwanted distraction. He knew that I hated taking care of babies. He knew that my backpack was already too full to hold him. He knew I was tired of holding burdens. My arms were already holding books. It was all I knew how to hold. I didn't know how to hold him. I didn't want to learn. Instead, he held me.

So every tear he dripped, he was silent. For 6 months. He didn't slip clues. He didn't mention any sadness that he was feeling. I have made our beautiful relationship bland. I made our days filled with empty space. Nothing was sacred between us. Nothing was treasured. While I was selfishly running my own desires, he was alone. Thinking of me. Wishing for me.

I would frown. He would kiss me and make me smile. I would cry. And he would hug me tightly and wipe my tears away. He would whisper those three simple words in my ear. That's all I needed to continue on. To stand back up. And I would just leave, because I had nothing to give back in return...

I have finally felt what it is like. To miss someone to the point where tears just slide down effortlessly.. No hearts were broken. No hands were unconnected. But as loneliness continued to seep past my flesh, I felt the need to be in his arms. It's where I belong. To be with him. But he was there even through this ordeal with me. Hand in hand. Because he knew how it felt. Like always. Why couldn't I do the same for him?

What hurts me most...is that he never told me he was suffering. He put my obstacles before his. And he stayed patient and quiet. He would wipe his own tears. And mine too. I was wrong. I was selfish. I was oblivious. But that makes me love him even more. To know that he would do that for me...is heart wrenching. What he wanted was so simple. Time and affection. But I saw through a lens where it seemed so difficult to supply. But now, I finally feel that it's balanced. It's ready to endure all.

It's true love.

To have you by my side, is my luck.

Ended with Happiness

June 29. .Sunny.

"Great report card," she says.

"Thanks," I respond anxiously.

She hands me the sheet nicely and I welcome it in my hands. Reluctant. I keep my hands down, my head up. Should I just look? But what if all that is waiting for me on the other side is regret...

I stuff it in my bag. I stuff it in my mind far away. But it was inevitable.

I meet back with Minmin, Joanna, and Johnny. All eyes are down, and searching through all spaces on their own paper that was printed clearly.

"How did you do Tiffany?" Joanna asks.

"I don't know I didn't look. Too scared," I simple stated.

"Let me see," she offers her hand.

I reach in my bag, and reached it to her finger's acceptance. Finally out of my own possession.

"The lady that gave me it, said that it was good...but I don't know what her definition of 'good' is..." I explain.

"No...it's good Tiffany...unless you are searching for all 90s," Joanna commented.

"No no, just A's," I begged.

All three of them become scanners instantaneously and invades my report card. I grab it and scan it for myself. I became a scanner too.

My eyes ran and looked everywhere. Every comment, every letter was read. My eyes were cemented firmly and focused. No sense of regret was met. Instead, relief breezed by and sweeped me high above. I smiled, and covered my mouth with my report card. You're joking.

I thought I had no hope in hitting that exact target. I stood there for so long. Wind shook me, rain poured on me, sunlight stared at me. I attempted to aim right before I had to let go. But near the end, I started to shake. Carelessness crept on me slowly. My hands began to shake. Tears started to form through my windows. I held until I wasn't able to anymore. I let it soar and invited endless possibilities.

But it was over already, and I thought I concluded it horribly. It was already recorded, and printed out. It was permanent.But I look up at my work, despite the fear in my eyes.

A masterpiece.

Many hardships have fallen. Three more heading my way.

A mirror is held in front of me. I see that I have what it takes to make my academic dreams come true one more time. I am armed with preservation. But that's all I really need. Own preferences needed to be stripped away. I have to push myself. I have to continue running. No stop signs. No traffic lights. No option of escapism. There is only one straight road ahead and I know exactly where I want to be.

I'm already on my way.

In the Rain

April 26th. .Rain.

We hugged under your umbrella. We kissed goodbye in the rain. You ran after me to shelter me from the depression of the skies.

Every time raindrops fell, it was cold. Windy brisk. But all these beautiful and sentimental moments can make black ice melt in my heart. Melt...and drip down deep. I don't know why Johnny started walking me home even in the rain. He would usually walk with me in the bright and mighty sunlight, or as the sun was setting with the clouds. Even when it was pouring one day, he walked with me. Even when it was cold, he walked with me. It was the same road. It was all the same. The reason why he's doing this isn't falling on me. But maybe he's finally learning to give more than take...to hold rather to be held.

The fall of raindrops. The shards of God's tears. The expression of the skies's sadness. It's all so beautiful. Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter...through the glassed windows. The freshness as the sun shines once more, past the tears on the floor, giving reflections of many colors, and an organic welcome from mother nature.

The sky is a symbolism of my emotions lately. Although I smile my usual bright smile, it's getting hard. I don't know what I'm going to do. Victor, Jordan, and many others are starting to do drugs, and drink excessively. Joanna has probably cried as much as the sky has these past days. She's still missing. I still don't see her. I still don't know what I can do for any one of them. Just sit. And watch. Nothing I say, or do, will wake them up. They may never wake up, and only go deeper, and deeper until they can't even find themselves anymore.

Friends are supposed to help. But I don't know how. I talked. I thought. I wondered. And nothing is working. I don't know how effective my letter to Joanna was. I don't know if me begging Victor helped him really think about his actions. It really seems like it hurts me more than it hurts himself. I just want him to love himself, and care for himself. He is changing more and more week by week. And I just don't know what is going on with Joanna anymore. She seems fine...but there is still a couple of missing pieces that I can't find. She's still hiding a part of her away from us.

I just love each and every one of them so much. I want them to be healthy, and I want them to continue to smile like I've always seen them. But what if they don't want to...what can I do when that happens? I know that I shouldn't care after I try because it's their choice, and it's their life. But I'm part of their life, even if it's the smallest slither on a pie chart. I want to make a difference. I want to make their life brighter. But so far, all I feel like I did was sit, and watch the daily news of what new trouble Victor is getting into. I don't want to be an idiot, and smile all by myself at school.

The clock has hit 3:11. I walk quickly to the lockers. And there they are. As always. Laughter, and grins were all there were. Victor would crack a pervy joke. And we would all laugh until our stomachs hurt. Joanna would laugh the loudest. Jenny would be putting her books away from a tired day but have her grin on the side. Minmin would talk and talk and talk, and make a fool of himself. It was only a small portion of us after school, but the quantity doesn't matter. It's the amount of happiness I feel from that group, even if it's just for 10 minutes everyday. The happiness is felt from one person to another. I know that this is what I live for. This is what I belong to. And this is proof to show that my friends are my source of warmth, and comfort. They are my silent healers...deep within their shadows, and beyond their own reflections. They don't need to target the source of my pain or wound, they just need to act like themselves...because that's all I need...for them to stay themselves.

It's all worth it, to go through an exhausting day, to just be able to set loose for awhile and be with the people I love most.

I just wonder if another day like this will come my way soon...

My Supporter, Encourager, Believer in Me

April 16th. .Sunny and Warm.

I thought I didn't have any specific talents. I thought that God forgot to give me a slip of his magic touch before I was given to my mother. Nothing I had a talent for was naturally there. Practice was done, time and money were spent. But finally, I've found what I'm naturally born with, something that was priceless and just came to me with no demand, no force. God actually didn't forget about me. He implanted my talents deep inside me already. And this year was the time I was supposed to find it.

Ms. DC was my supporter, my encourager, my believer. If she wasn't there, I would have no idea that God has given me this special talent. She sat there, and listened. Although it seems like the most simple thing anyone can do, I've never met a teacher that would do that for me. I can't believe that she actually understands me, how I think, and appreciate who I am as just a simple human being. Unlike many other teachers, that just sees a student as a student, it seems like she treats me like another fellow writer and friend. She always believed in me and lets me write what I wanted to, because she knows '[she]'ll love it'. Her suggestions brightened my writing skills and ideas. Her words made my mind tilt in a different angle. I've learned so much from her. She taught me about being an even better writer, and a better person in life. No adult figure spent time to listen to my thoughts and my creativity, so meeting her was my relief. It reminded me that my thoughts aren't like many other girls at my age and that was ok.

And when it's time to say goodbye in June, I don't think I would be able to bring myself to. I don't know if there are anyone else out there that will notice my special touch. Some may dislike it, some may not recognize it. I break traditional writing rules. It's who I am as a writer. I purposely write sentence fragments. I know that trees can't hold, and time can't run. But I write what I feel and what I see. And that's what I see. That's what I hear. That's what I smell. It's what I feel. I write as honest, as pure and simple as I can. Complicated words are not what I am aiming for. And to just know that even one professional recognizes it, makes my whole mind hesitate, and shake back and forth. Back and forth.

Thank you so much Ms. DC. Every compliment, every suggestion, every comment has helped shape and inspire me as a writer. You were the one that found my talent before I did. You were also one of the only adults that can sit, listen, and understand me. Thank you for being such a big supporter of my work. I really wish you can continue to guide me, and teach me all you know, because there is still so much that I don't know, so much that i don't recognize and see. Having your admiration and attention is such an honor and gift. Continue to inspire young adults, and work in the world of literacy and art.

-Tiffany Sit

A Line is to Separate

April 6th .Dark.

On Sunday, Chris held a birthday party at his house. It was the same place, and we did the same things. But it just didn't feel like the other time we celebrated in grade 9. Last year, it was filled with happiness, laughter, and warmth.Out of the three, only two were present this year. Warmth was absent.Braden was singing ridiculously, Joanna was laughing hysterically...it's all transparent and memorized. If only I can grasp it one more time tightly in my hands, and hear the laughter and happiness that sprung once again. But nothing is held, nothing is heard. This time, it felt hollow from life. People that I didn't really know well were there, and there was no sense of loose comfort. I was silent most of the time, and occasionally laughing at Braden, Victor, and Jordan. All I was thinking about was the last time we celebrated Chris's party and how different it was. I want to go back to grade 9 one last time. For one day.

Sylvanna was also there that day. And that was an additional reason to why I felt uncomfortable. I just don't get it sometimes. I don't know and I don't understand. I've sat down, settled my mind, and concentrated...but nothing came. I still don't understand why Sylvanna still hates me and why she even started to. We were such good friends...and it just disappeared. She started ignoring me and Jane as she started hanging out with the asian crew. She shut us out. I said nothing, and continued on. It was not the first time i was thrown out, and unneeded. But it doesn't mean that the number of times reduces the amount of pain I felt. It always felt the same.

Just like everyone else, I want to feel loved and cared about. In a way, I think it's also about me being spoiled most of the time. At school, I'm always surrounded by people that like me and care for me. And once I meet or see someone that feel different, I get upset. I try so hard to be able to be friends with everyone I know. I try to talk and spend time with them as much I can. I also give them compassion and care. But there still has to be people that don't like me for who I am. And I just want to know what I'm doing wrong so I can fix it and earn redemption.

It hurts. Stamping hatred onto someone for no valid reason. All people can say to me is to just, "Ignore it." or "You'll get over it." I can't. I feel like I'm being picked on. I feel like I'm trapped, having no where else to turn and no where else to run. It's unfair. And even if I did do something wrong, they can't give me a second chance? I don't bite. I don't yell. I don't kill. I'm nothing more than a human being. And in a world filled with humans, we all learn to compromise, forgive, and negotiate.

I've let go of almost all of the hardships and experiences I have went through in grade 8. And I've learned to let go, even though it was the hardest obstacle to crawl through. I've grown. Why can't they just let me go and set me free...

No matter what happens, there will always be a solid line that borders our worlds. Mine. And theirs. I believe in one. They believe in two. I choose right. They choose left. It's inevitable. But I just wish that one day, the border decomposes to just a thin line. It may be bold, dotted, solid, light, or invisible. Just not a line that has hatred and despise injected deep within.

Thousands of Paths

Feb 11th .Rainy and Cloudy.

"There are thousands of paths in front of you. Each prepared and ready to go. Don't worry. These paths were all tested and used by former students. These will lead and pass by the next three years of your life. Don't think of turning back because it'll become difficult. Half a month. Think about it and start walking on your chosen path after two weeks."

I'm 15. Not even 16 yet. How can I make a decision for the "19 year-old" me? What do I know about myself? What do I know about the future? What are the things that I will think about...or need...

A few days ago, we had a course selection assembly regarding next year. They were telling us how we need to decide where we want to head, what do we want to end up with, what kind of person we want to be. But I don't know what or who I want to be. I don't know if I can graduate with a scholarship or with outstanding marks. Can I do well in an AP exam, or fight and not get crushed into millions of shards? Where is the point where my potential and intelligence leave me running alone? I don't know what I have to offer. Who am I going to be in the future? Definitely not who I am right now.

Today, Ms. DC talked to me during collaboration, and I knew she wanted to talk to me about course selections in the English area. I don't want to enter into English Honors. I made that clear. I know it may teach me many new techniques and ways to write...but I want my writings to stay 'me'. I want them to be preserved forever by my side. Right beside my heart. She starts to talk about Creative Writing 12, and how it would suit me as a writer. And she uses my "Kite Runner" essay as an example again. "I still mention that essay of yours because that essay was just exceptional. I still remember it even now."

Really? I thought I was the only one thinking that it was a big deal. I thought it was a shooting star. Beautiful when it's there for a split second. But it definitely doesn't last for long. It's meant to be forgotten and disappear in the air. But once again, these compliments makes me freeze; makes my heart skip and stop. Skip...and stop.

But something hits me. Ms. DC loves the way I write, and truly believes that I hold potential. That has been digested already. But everyone has different preferences. Ms. Chow might think I have a lot of flaws and have a lot of things to work on. Ms. Sihota plays on favoritism. Mr. Vanjoff...I remember him. He taught me for two weeks. And he only marked my work once. The one about Vinnie. I still remember getting a 4.5 out of 5. The highest mark in the class...I don't know. Everything is blurry about him. "I hope I can teach you one year again." I think he said. It would be a challenge and an honor to have him teach me again. I can just feel it. Scary but full of uncertainty. But that uncertainty...doesn't give me coldness, but a feeling of endless possibilities and excitement.

Future. I'm frightened of that word. So many words are behind that one bold meaning. Adventure. Wonder. Unknown. Surprise. Secret. Unpredictable. I want to stay a teenager forever. I want to stay the way I am now. I want to go to school, see my friends, go to class, learn new things. I want it like this everyday, and I'll never grow old from it. It'll always be magical and special to me. Everything that happens around and inside that school. Even though I even have times where I want to just give up and plant hatred seeds for my school...I never end up doing it. I just slide those seeds back into my pocket.

I want to always know where I'm heading, and what is a good choice and what isn't. But I also know that that's not how life always goes. Free passes aren't always given. Risks have to be made and pounced on. This is a huge leap that I'm not ready to make at the age of 15. I'm still a girl that doesn't know much. I still have experiences to learn from to make this decision. I can't just leap when I don't know where I'm going to land next, can I?

Leap Past the Sun

Feb 9th .Cloudy.

Midterms are finally over! I didn't think I would make it. But with a 95% in my Chemistry midterm and an 84% in my Physics midterm, I have nothing else to wish for. They aren't 100%, but these marks are more than enough to keep me humble and happy about myself. Another hard obstacle was successfully leaped over. And again, I've learned new lessons.

During the week of my physics preparation, I've made many mistakes, and have shed many tears. I've accumulated bits of my anger and smacked it at Johnny who didn't even deserve it. I've given my mom a lot of bad attitude when she didn't do anything wrong. I've pulled Eric away from his courses at university so I could get help from him. I even dragged Mr. Lee away from his lunch time to help me out. I've made many of my friends worry and donate extra care for me through my breakthroughs too. That week was freakishly emotional. I cried two or three times within one week. I've told myself that "I give up." so many times. I thought that there was no way for me to even get a B on that test. But I've realized...no one was putting myself down, but me. I was my own barrier. I stopped myself from enlarging my chances of winning. Instead, I was shrinking them. But now, I know that it was wrong. I need to have confidence in my academics and what I have to offer. I can't doubt myself anymore. I have potential, like Jenny said...and it's time for me to fully embrace it.

I always stand back up, pick up my pencil, and try new questions over and over again. It's weird how I never end up sitting there and just threw all those papers away. I could even cry for half an hour. But I would dry my tears up easily, and start fresh. Where did I get this strength from? Was it always there? This reminded me that no matter how hard something is, as long as I put my heart out there, and sacrifice everything I can, I can achieve it. It's all about how much you can give. After I gave everything I owned, there was this sense of relief that the marks don't matter anymore. It's the inside that counts. Even after my exam, I told myself, "No matter what grade I get in the end, no matter how many right or wrong I get, I'm proud of myself." There was no little space to slip in regret. I used up everything. I gave up everything. There was nothing more I could have done. I've slept at two and woke up at seven throughout the week. I've spent numerous hours working on physics booklets over and over again. Eric has helped me a lot, and given me so much encouragement that I can do this, and that I have no reason to give up. He believed in me. I know that 84% isn't high, and it's not an A, but now, from 61% in Physics, I'm getting 87% in one single shot. An A. Finally.

Even though that A is a little shaky, I'm confident. I have another test next week to seal up term 2. And I'm not scared. Because I know that no matter how hard it's going to be. I'll fight through it. Even if it means another week of sleeping late, late, late. I'm willing to give up everything to reach my goal. It's time for me to reach my full potential...because I have a group of supporters that I can't ever let down. My friends...and Johnny.

Tell Me Little White Lies

Jan 29th .Cloudy, Rainy.

"That's ok."

Slap.

"I'll just work harder."

Slap.

"I'll just give up my sleep."

Slap.

From up top, I fell down low.

Today, in Socials, we finally got our tests back. I knew I messed up one section and probably cost me ten whole marks. He hands the test back. No compliment given. This can't be good. I look for the red markings on the top of the sheet. Forty seven out of Sixty. I thought so. I look through it in detail. If I didn't mix up Federal and Provincial...I would of received fifty-seven. I knew the material. All of it. Should I tell him? If I do...what is he going to do...what do I want him to do...I know it's my own fault for mixing up the two in the first place. I shouldn't say anything right?

He calls me up to tell me my current mark. I couldn't help but mention that section where I messed up. My own mouth was out of my control somehow.

"Uh..Tiffany. You have...eighty-eight percent right now."
"Oh thanks. Um...about the test, for the Federal and Provincial part, I mixed those two up and got zero rather than ten..."

"Oh really? I noticed that you were doing so well on the test but suddenly messed up on that section. I thought you were too busy to study that part."

"Oh no...I mixed them up. So...I got zero..."
He pauses and stares at his desk filled with papers and books.
It was silent.

"Sorry...I'm not telling you to give me bonus marks. It's ok. I just wanted to tell you what had happened."
He stares at the computer monitor.

"You kn-"
"It's really ok. I know it's my fault for mixing it up in the first place."

He looks at me.
"Ok."

"Kay. Thanks." I smiled.

I know it's not right for him to give me those marks even though I knew the material almost perfectly. I shouldn't have mixed them up in the first place. It's not his fault. It's mine...and I should accept the consequences. Everything is learnt by a lesson taught. And I've learned.

In Physics, Mr. Fuerderer, as always, isn't teaching much. He assigns a work sheet and leaves the room. I start to work. I understood everything but one little part. I catch a glimpse of Azra, the girl sitting beside me, looking at my paper. I didn't want to cover it up. I didn't want to be mean. I kept my paper there. And leaned back. Mr. Fuerderer finally comes back and our group asks him the question I didn't understand. He looks at Azra's piece of paper. "This is good work." I just stared at her paper...with nothing to say.

He starts to hand back out our quiz. I get mine. I see...the number three. Out of ten. "I knew it." I said with my face. Another slap.

Our group finished the worksheet first and we left the class at 2:45. I decided to go find Mr. Lee earlier since he doesn't teach a class in the last block. I look in. A couple of grade 12 or 11 girls are sitting around his desk. "Should I come back later..." I thought. But my feet didn't listen. They continued to move forward.

"Hey Mr. Lee."
"Hey."

"Um...can I talk to you now instead?"

"Sure."

The girls stop talking.

"Um...I was wondering if you could help me out with physics."

"What? I'm not a physics teacher though...I'm a math teacher." He said jokingly.

"But it's basically math..."

"Who is your teacher?"

"...Mr. Fuerderer" I mumbled. For some reason, it was so hard to say his name aloud.

"Oh."

"See? You know what I mean..."

"Well these girls might be able to help you."

I glance over.

"Isn't it just plugging in numbers..." One girl said.
I was empty from words...I felt like crying. If Mr. Lee isn't willing to help me, I don't know what I can do. Eric is busy with university, and so is my brother. And these girls making it sound like it's so easy just makes me want to cry even more. I feel stupid enough.

"Tell you what, I can try to help you but I can't guarantee that I can help entirely. But how do you want me to help you."

"I don't know...I was thinking about doing some questions and if I have anything I don't understand I could go and at least try to ask you."

"Sure, I'm free Monday at lunch."

"I just finished my physics block right now, because I finished the worksheet."

"Do you have any review material?"

"Uh...he has some online."

"Go ahead and use my computer. Ask me if you don't get anything."

"Thanks...."

As the clock hits 3:11, I say thanks to Mr. Lee and head upstairs. My cheeks turn warm, as I'm holding my tears back behind me. Chris passes by me, and instantly, like always, he could tell that something was wrong.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing..." I whisper. I try to walk away from him.

He moves to the side to blocks my path.

I stop and look down.

"No seriously...what is wrong." He demanded.

"Nothing...really Chris. I'm just tired."

"...fine.." He lets me go.

I walk away hurriedly. I can't let anyone think there is something bothering me. But each step I took to walk up the stairs...my eyelids were getting harder and harder to hold all those tears. My eyes became blurry. My arms got weak. My legs slowed down. My hands uncurled. As I reached the top, I see Johnny heading my way. Shit.

He sees my expression, and just like Chris, he knew something was wrong. He hugged me like always. "Can you just...don't." I attempted to say softly. I wanted to slowly move his arms away...but I couldn't even manage that. I was too tired. I was too dependent on him. I shouldn't have been mean to him. But I was too tired....to think...to hold...to breathe...

At the lockers, I just pretend that everything is fine. My fake smile finally lit up. And Minmin cheered me up a little, but I still felt very strained. I felt my smile cracking. It was about to go off and shatter.

It was raining. Unlike with my other friends, I wasn't afraid to let my emotions flow out to Johnny. I continued to throw a little tantrum at him. He hugged my back suddenly.

"I love you." he whispered.

"I don't love Physics." I said bluntly.

"You'll do better next time." he whispered.

"No I won't."

But he continued to hug me. He continues to love me.

If he held any longer...I would of gave in. I would of cried on his shoulder. I would of burdened him.

I've told myself that white lie so many times. I need stop lying to myself and face reality. Face-forward, that this is how it's going to be. How can it better...How can I make it better... How can I succeed... I only got an A once in that class. Once. I'm so tired and scared of lying to myself again...that somehow I can manage to do this. I don't want to pull myself back up. I don't want to fall down again. I'll be smart this time, and stay at the bottom where it's impossible to fall any lower. But I also know...that I never end up sitting down. I always end up standing and lying to myself one more time.

My mom picked me up and I just loosened my grip and let my books fall on the seat. I sat down and just stared through the crystallized window. It was moody...but so clear. Heading up the stairs, I didn't feel like eating, talking, or smiling. I just wanted to stuff myself in my warm blankets and lie to myself one last time. One soothing lie. I am far away from my concerns. But even in bed, I was crying. Even when Johnny sent me a message, I was crying.I just wanted to avoid everything and everyone. I wanted to find my door of escapism. Away from all things...even him. Even myself.